


You're at the Top of My List

by zebraljb



Series: Winter Wonderland 2020 [9]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Tailor Harry Hart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: Harry becomes quite enamored of his new postman.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin
Series: Winter Wonderland 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050998
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	You're at the Top of My List

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/gifts).



> Fluff prompt - sitting by the fire
> 
> Also Tumblr prompt from Sway...
> 
> "Here's a prompt for ya: before Christmas, Harry notices he has a new mail man. A very attractive new mail man. So he starts to and keeps ordering stuff just so he'll have excuse to see him again."

Harry knows that people order things through the mail regularly. He even knows some people who have given up on physical shopping altogether…they only buy online. He’s never been one of those people. He’s never been interested in ordering from catalogues or over the phone. He likes to feel fabric in his hand, move it here and there so the stitching catches the light. But some things just cannot be done, and he’s forced to order via the internet.

He knows how to do it, of course…he’s not an idiot. But there just isn’t the same satisfaction in clicking “process order” or “complete transaction.” Needs must, however, and there it is.

He’s a bit surprised to hear a knock at his door around half-two in the afternoon. He sticks the pins in the pin cushion, dusts off his trousers, and peeks through the tiny hole in his door. A tall figure, distorted by the peephole, of course, but wearing what seems to be a postal uniform. Harry opens the door. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello, Sir.” The man checks the parcel he’s holding. “Mr. Hart?”

“Yes,” Harry says faintly.

The man is stunning. Bald head covered by a cap. Interesting hazel eyes, a sharp profile, strong hands. “I have a package for ye,” the man continues. A Scottish accent that pours over Harry’s soul and pools at his cock. “If ye would be so kind?” He holds out his electric clipboard.

“Yes, of course.” Harry does the best he can with the stylus. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in the neighborhood before?”

“That would be correct, sir. Transferred for the holidays, but just for the parcels and packages. They need all hands on deck.” The man hands over Harry’s package and sticks the clipboard under his arm. “Good day, sir.”

“And to you as well,” Harry says faintly. He watches the man stride down the pavement and realizes he’s staring. He goes back into the house and closes the door, staring down at the parcel in his hands. At the moment he doesn’t even remember what he’s ordered.

Technically Harry doesn’t NEED the new scissors set. Or the fabric weights. But there was a good sale, and they would be at the house in three days. Sharp scissors are important tools for any tailor worth his salt, after all.

It absolutely has nothing to do with the idea that perhaps the tall handsome Scottish man might come knocking on his door. Harry absolutely hasn’t thought about the man for the last week. He absolutely did NOT wake up on Saturday morning with an impressive erection and the man’s hazel eyes burning a hole in his brain.

When the knock comes he almost drops his tea. He slowly stands and tugs at his cardigan. He looks down to make sure he hasn’t actually spilled tea on the cashmere, takes a deep breath, and walks to the door. “Hello there.” Harry gives what he hopes is a polite smile (instead of the leer he is actually feeling on the inside). It’s him. The handsome man with the beautiful eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hart.”

“You remembered.” For some reason this pleases Harry immensely.

“Well, it is right here on the label,” the man says, tapping the box.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Why doesn’t the ground swallow one when it is appropriate?

The man holds out his clipboard and Harry scribbles. “But I did remember without needing to look,” the man murmurs. Harry forgets to breathe. The man actually touches the brim of his cap, giving Harry a wink. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Hart.”

It’s three weeks before Christmas and Harry is desperately trying to think of someone to shop for. He shops for perhaps three family members as a rule, picking out the gifts in a shop and sending them out on his own. He flips through his address book. There’s Percival, of course. They’re friends, but they’re not exactly at the place where they buy each other gifts. 

Harry mindlessly clicks through webpage after webpage with no success. He decides to give up just as he notices his tea has gone cold. “Bloody hell,” he growls. He looks at the cup and then at his laptop. Tea. Everyone needs tea. And everyone deserves special gourmet tea that they can’t get in London.

It is an absolutely perfect day for tea. Rain continues to lash against the windows, the sky remains grey, and there’s a decidedly December chill in the air. Harry has his lunch and returns to his workbench, but instead of preparing Mr. Weston’s waistcoat, he alternates between glancing at the clock and looking at the door. 1:00. 1:45. 2:00. 2:25. 3:00. 

The package doesn’t arrive, there’s no knock on the door, and Harry starts cleaning up his work with a sigh as the clock strikes half-four. He’s such an idiot. Is he some sort of ridiculous besotted schoolboy? He doesn’t even know the man’s name, for God’s sake. He is obviously just a nice man being paid to deliver packages with a polite greeting and goodbye…not a man being paid to allow a ridiculous old fool like Harry to drool over him like a horny goat.

He’s so busy mentally kicking himself in the arse that he doesn’t notice someone’s knocking at the door. He closes his workshop door with a sigh before heading to the front of the house. “Oh!”

“Your package, Mr. Hart.”

Harry blinks at the man for a second. Every part of him is soaked through. Drops of rain are sliding off his sharp nose, and the thin material of his uniform is clinging to his (quite) skinny legs. “You poor thing,” Harry says without thinking. “Please, come in. Dry off.”

“I…all right,” the man replies, surprising them both. He comes in out of the rain and Harry closes the door. 

Harry takes his parcel and places it on a table in the hall. “I have a fire started in the living room,” he says. “Come in and sit down.”

“I’ll drip all over everything. I don’t wish to make a mess of your nice home.” The man looks around inquisitively. 

Harry looks him over with a practiced eye. “We’re of a size. I’ll be right back.” He takes the stairs two at a time and returns with a pair of casual trousers and a jumper. “The loo is right down there. Why don’t you change and I’ll toss your uniform in the dryer.”

“Oh, I don’t wish to impose.”

“You aren’t doing anything of the sort,” Harry promises. “Unless you’ll get in trouble with the postal service?”

“You’re the last stop on my route,” the man says. He takes the clothing from Harry and toes his wet shoes off. He pads down to the loo in his socks and Harry finally comes to his senses. He picks up the box of tea and hurries into the kitchen. He starts the kettle, opens the box, and pulls out some of his favorite tea. 

He’s back in the living room by the fire when the man appears in the doorway. “All sorted, then?” Harry asks with a friendly smile. “Please come in.” He motions to the empty chair close to the fire.

“Thank ye.” The man takes the offered cup and gratefully wraps his hands around it. “Christ, that feels good.” He turns toward the fire with a sigh. “Ye are too kind, Mr. Hart.”

“Harry, please.”

“Harry.” The man says with a nod. “My name is Merlin.” Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.”

“I appreciate this, Harry. Bloody miserable out there.” Merlin sips his tea and lets out a grunt of approval. “I wouldn’t even be out in it except…” He winces and stops talking.

“Except what,” Harry says quietly. “Was there an issue with my delivery? You could have left it at the office, I would have gladly…”

“I was taken off this route two days ago,” Merlin admits. “I’m not in this neighborhood anymore.”

“Oh,” Harry says, trying very hard not to show his disappointment and likely failing entirely. “Well, I appreciate you going out of your way.”

“I…I saw your package and offered to deliver it.”

Harry gapes at him. “Oh,” he says again. “I…”

“I should go.” Merlin’s face is red and Harry’s fairly certain it has nothing to do with the fire.

“No. Wait.” Harry places a hand on his knee. “I have a confession to make,” he says with a shaky sigh. “After the first time you were here…I found reasons to order things so you’d have to deliver them.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Harry says. “I’m not sure what to say. I apologize, of course, because it is a bit stalkerish, isn’t it? A perfect stranger practically luring you to his home again and again.”

“Ye have the perfect part right,” Merlin says almost shyly. Harry is shocked into silence. “I noticed every perfect thing about ye the first time I laid eyes on ye.”

They look at each other for a long moment. “I was going to make dinner shortly,” Harry says. “Would you care to join me?”

“I’d like that very much, Harry.”

Harry smiles into his tea.


End file.
